


Good Day

by Ladycat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Family, M/M, on Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming to Prince George for a family vacation is not the smartest thing Jeannie's ever suggested, but the hilarity values are steadily going up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Day

"What is this, the _tundra?"_ Rodney snaps, arms curled protectively over his chest.

Jeannie doesn't bother rolling her eyes. The muscles are starting to ache and she's not quite sure how to explain how she sprained her _eyes_ to her doctor. She suspects Madison is picking up the habit, as well, and any good mother has to prevent future injury in her child. Also, she might use it on _Jeannie_.

"For god's sake, Rodney, it's not that cold out." Coming to Prince George for a family vacation is not the smartest thing Jeannie's ever suggested, but the hilarity values are steadily going up.

Rodney's abandoned his friction attempts and has burrowed in the long not-a-penis-shaped-at-all duffle he totted with him all through Vancouver and pulls out the coolest thing _ever_. Jeannie's aware that she's staring in something like shock and awe, but since there's no actual fireworks she doubts that Rodney is even aware that he's the subject of such scrutiny as he tugs a bright orange fleece over his head, sighing happily as he shakes and pats and smooths until it lays comfortably around him.

"I love this sweater," he says happily. The pink of his cheeks and nose look less red against all that radioactive orange-ness, and somehow far more charming. "I wore it in Antarctica and it was the only thing that kept me -- whoa!"

Jeannie knows her brother is strong. He's always been a lot stronger than his sort of dumpy exterior implied, and the last few years have only toughened him up if not actually made him less dumpy-looking. Still, sisters are a category all to themselves and in a few seconds Jeannie has things arranged to her satisfaction. She sighs happily, burrowing in more deeply.

Curled around her, Rodney sort of twitches. "Uh. Jeannie?"

"Hmm?" Jeannie is plotting the best way to steal the sweater, because then she can put it on Kaleb and. Well. Madison needs a brother, doesn't she? Two, even.

This close, Rodney's voice rumbles through her body, suddenly deeper and more powerful despite the frantic quality to it. "What are you doing?"

"Cuddling. It's something brother's and sister's do," she declaims, lying out of her ass. Maybe not a brother; Maddie doesn't need to know that powerful, seething hatred one feels for a sibling, despite professing love in the same space-time continuum. It causes severe, lasting damage.

"Jeannie, you're practically in my _lap_." Definite panic there. Mer's always been bad at the physical side of things, though, and Jeannie doesn't move an iota out of the safe, secure, incredibly warm and cuddly circle of Rodney's orange sweater even as she contemplates a childhood that didn't involve noogies, wedgies, or the more probable slap-fights, in favor of more academic trauma such as: stealing her favorite toys, sabotaging her experiments, and on one memorable occasion _blowing up_ her favorite teddy bear.

Good times, she thinks happily. Good times.

"Shut up and snuggle with me, Mer. You're _warm_. And you look really good in that sweater."

"Oh." Rodney shifts awkwardly against her, then some indefinable tension starts fading away, the heavy, comfortable bulk of him molding around her until they're as tangled as she often gets with Kaleb, only with far more clothes and no dirty thoughts at _all_.

Although. She should probably -- oh, there he is. Jeannie's pretty sure there's some kind of beacon going on -- possibly telepathic -- but since she thinks it's cute, she doesn't complain. Just grins wide and happy as Sheppard turns their cuddle into a puppy-pile, all of them trying to burrow into comfy, comfy Rodney and his orange sweater of cuddliness.

Of course, that's when Madison joins the group, jumping on Sheppard's _stomach_ \-- and possibly lower the way he looks so sincerely pained -- but then the McKays are united against the lone Sheppard in their mix and are laughing too hard to feel appropriately sympathetic. Not that they would; McKays don't feel sympathetic.

Sheppard doesn't seem to be missing it, though, not when Rodney gives him _that_ smile, and Madison is her own ball of warmth spread out over all of them, brown hair spilling trustingly over Sheppard's shoulder.

"Hey, Rodney," Jeannie says, "where did you get that sweater?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, somewhere in -- wait a minute." He shifts on the unfortunately lumpy sofa, but two grown adults and a child are sufficient to keep him immobile. Mostly. "Is _that_ what this is about? My _sweater?"_

"What, McKay," Sheppard laughs and clearly he understands Rodney very, very well because there's not an ounce of sympathy mixed in with the Puckish-laughter, "did you think we were here for _you?"_


End file.
